OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

Chapter 4

They found her uncle in Punjab and he was more than willing to agree to the marriage. He insisted they stay, at lest until the baby was born, and Logan agreed. William and his wife, Katherine were kind, and Melanie was relaxed.

Logan smiled as she walked in the garden. She had given up corsets months ago; her loose gown flowed in the hot breeze. She had been complaining of back pain for the last few days, and he had done everything he knew how to do to ease it.

He watched as she bent down to look at a flower, and then suddenly gripped her stomach.

He rushed to her side.

"Mel…"

"I think its time, Logan." She said softly.

He picked her up and carried her to their room. Mrs. Anderson was waiting; she had been spending the days here, while her husband attended to regimental duties. She pushed Logan out the door, and Bill took him by the arm, and led him to the study. He handed him a cigar and a huge glass of brandy.

"You are going to be here a while. Kitty took two days to give me my son." Logan took a huge gulp of the brandy. He could hear her screaming already. Bill tried to get his mind off of what was going on upstairs. They talked about Martha – about Charlie – about Logan's business interests – and Melanie's dowry. Logan winced every time he heard a scream from upstairs, every time he heard her curse his name. He almost laughed in his brandy when he heard her scream she wasn't ever letting him touch her again. Then he blanched – what if she meant it.

He jumped and ran for the door but William stopped him.

"All in good time, my boy, all in good time." He sat back down, and then stood and started pacing. His beard and graying hair always made Logan think of a billy goat. There was another loud scream from upstairs and the unmistakable sound of a baby's cry. Logan held his breath until he heard Melanie's voice, asking to see the baby. He sat bonelessly in the chair and gulped down the rest of his fifth glass of brandy.

"Five hours…that baby must have been in a hurry." William said with a grin.

Logan just stared at him. Mrs. Anderson came to the door empty handed, her apron spotted with blood.

"It's a girl." She said quietly, as if afraid of anger.

Logan grinned, and kissed her on the cheek. He ran up the stairs. A girl…His Melanie had given him a girl. She was lying on the bed, the tiny bundle against her chest. He could see a small fist outside the blanket and a shock of curly black hair – just like his. He sat on the edge of the bed, grinning like an idiot.

"Logan – she's so tiny." Melanie was grinning.

"She's beautiful – like her mother." He said, looking at her tiny face.

"What are we going to call her?"

"Margaret Jean." He said. Melanie smiled. Margaret had been her grandmother, and Jean had been her mother's middle name. Logan kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and then dropped one just as tender on little Margaret's head.

"My Melbell and Magpie." He grinned at them. Melanie laughed the sound music to his ears. He stroked her face, still marveling at just how beautiful they both were. He heard a sound at the door and looked up. William and his wife were standing there, Logan waved them into the room.

"Well, well – a girl. You will have to do better next time Melanie. A man wants a son to carry on his name." Her uncle said. Logan just grinned.

"I am perfectly happy with a girl…and a healthy mother."

The next six weeks flew by, and Melanie recovered quickly from the birth. Margaret grew quickly, and Logan's greatest joy was to hold her while watching Melanie take care of some small domestic thing, he had never felt such peace.

"I do think she smiled at me." He said as Melanie repaired a rip in one of his shirts.

"She will do that." Melanie smiled at him. He rocked the baby gently, having become an expert in baby care over the last several weeks. Or at least he thought he had. She started to cry, and he tried to quiet her. She had just eaten so he knew it wasn't hunger – her nappies were clean so it wasn't that – he couldn't for the life of him figure it out.

"Mel – help." He said.

She put the shirt down and walked over, picking up the baby. Cradling and cooing at her, trying to sooth her. She walked and paced, patting and rocking but still the baby cried. It went on for hours, and nothing would stop her. She refused to eat – refused to sleep – refused to do anything but scream in that high pitched wail that nearly sent him screaming from the room. He took her while Melanie tried to rest, but neither of them could think about rest or sleep with her crying like that.

Mrs. Anderson was sent for, and she laughed at them both. "Colic – all babies get it. A bit of brandy on the gums will set her right as rain." She was right, bless her, and Logan went back to holding his cherub, until the crying started again.

Four days they paced the floor, taking turns quieting her, holding her, sleeping when they could. William laughed at him, told him he was doing woman's work, but he didn't care. She was his daughter – he hated her being in pain, wanted to do what he could to ease it. As quickly as it started – it ended. She drifted off to sleep, and when she woke, she was grinning and cherubic again.

Logan was getting restless. He longed for the forests of Canada – his cabin, peace and solitude. He knew he would never have that again – but to be away from the press of humanity that was India – he wanted to go home. Finally, he tried to convince Melanie that they should return to Canada.

"What about Abbott?" She said, fear still gripping her.

"It's been a year – almost." He held her against his side. Magpie was sleeping all night, finally and he had Melanie all to himself. He couldn't complain about the changes in her body from the birth, and she was more willing to accommodate his needs, as if she needed the reassurance of his affections. "And we don't have to go back to Halifax, we can go in through New York, take a train up, and then cross country to my cabin. It's a nice piece of land – not as grand as your father's house was, but we can add on as we see fit."

"I just don't like the idea of going back where he can find us; can't we stay here, just for a while?"

"Melbel – I have business I need to take care of, investments that need checking, money I am owed I need to collect – or at least remind people they owe. We can take the long route, let me check my European investments first, then we can work our way through the states, checking things there before we head home. I really would like to have a home – with you and Magpie." He whispered. Who said settling down was for old men?

"If you think its best – we will go, I just am afraid."

"I know – and I will take care of you both, I promise." He held her close. The next morning they packed their bags and said goodbye to her uncle and aunt. He was ready for a home of his own – and he needed to get out of Abbott's shadow. She didn't have to know that one of the things he was planning was taking care of that little problem.

The trip to Bombay was uneventful, and they were lucky enough that a ship was there, ready to return to England. Maybe London wasn't a bad idea, or a house in the country, he had enough contacts and interests in England that they could live comfortably there. No, Canada was his home, and he wasn't going to let some two bit asshole run him out. Besides – it was Melanie's home too, and he wasn't going to allow her to feel like an outcast for her entire life because of Abbott.

Three months at sea, and they returned to Portsmouth – a short trip to London – a visit to the bank to replenish his financial means – and another trip to Portsmouth. Passage to New York was nearly impossible to arrange. The war was still grinding on in the states. Daniel was in port, and with interesting news.

"Abbott and his men were run out of Halifax. They got a new governor, and have requested that anyone who had dealings with him – who was wronged by Abbott come forward to be compensated for their suffering. I was going to send news to India – Melanie's inheritance can at least partially be recovered." Logan grinned.

"So – five hundred for passage."

"Hell no, not with a baby crying at all hours of the night…six." The two men laughed and shook on the deal.

Melanie was shocked. "I can go home. I can go HOME!"

"Yes, my love, we can go home." He smiled as she threw her arms around him. He swung her around, her joy infectious. "I booked passage with Daniel."

They boarded the KatieMarie and it almost felt like being home already. Daniel was taking a few more passengers back across the Atlantic, but they managed to end up in the same cabin.

"At least this time I ain't sleepin in a hammock." He grinned as he slipped into the bunk with her.

"But I will still be sick." She laughed.

"Only in the mornings – I hope." They had just found out their second child was on the way. She had become a better sailor over the last year. They were both looking forward to returning home. Maggie was nestled between them, and they all three slept soundly.

Mel was right, she was sick. The whole trip, but this time there were no complaints. She wanted to go home as much as he did. The voyage was peaceful, long talks in the evenings with Dan, quiet time holding his daughter and his wife, even her morning sickness was a joy to him, although she cursed him not a few times over it.

In Halifax, the foundation was all that was left of her father's house. Abbott had left it that way as an object lesson to those who crossed him. Logan rented a house nearby and began the process to try to reclaim her father's property. There was no sign of Abbott – but he knew who to contact to help him track the bastard down – and old acquaintance who worked for his grandfather – a bounty hunter by the name of Victor Creed.

She was due any day when he got word to meet Creed – the message said Creed had information about Abbott. Logan hated leaving her even for an hour to meet the man, but he needed to take care of this – or the rest of their lives would be lived in the shadow of her fear of Abbott.

"Mel – I won't be gone long. I have some business I need to take care of. Mrs. Thompson is here, she will stay with you." They had hired a midwife to stay during the last month.

"Logan – you promised to never leave me alone."

"You aren't alone – Mrs. Thompson is here – and her husband. I won't be gone long." He kissed her gently, and picked up his toddling Magpie. "Kiss for Daddy." He set her back on the floor, gently, among her toys.

"Be careful and hurry back. My back hurts." She moaned as she sat in the chair in the drawing room.

"I'll rub it out tonight, when I get home." He grinned. Something made him look back, at his girls. They were so beautiful. He grinned.

The tavern was crowded; Creed took up a bench on the back wall, a serving girl on his lap when Logan walked in the door. He never really liked the man, but he was good at what he did. He was loyal to Logan's grandfather, and so Logan trusted him.

"What information do you have for me Creed?" He said as he sat down across the table from the giant.

"Abbott is coming back to Halifax – don't know when. He got word you were back – you and your girl."

"You sure."

"Yeah – I'm sure."

"Find out when for me, I want to kill the bastard myself." Logan said, bitterness in his voice.

"You ain't soft like your grandfather says." Creed said with a vicious grin.

"No I ain't. This bastard has done enough to me and mine. I am goin ta gut him myself."

"Need any help – not for free or nothin, but the bastard deserves killin."

"I'm payin if you are in."

"I'm in. Need a place to stay, though – out of sight."

"Got a back room you can use. Mel won't mind." The giant stood up and the two men left the common room. They walked back toward Logan's house but the smell of smoke caused both men to burst into a run. The house was engulfed in flames. Logan tried to run through, but he could smell the blood and death before he even tried. He could see into the drawing room – Maggie's small body crumpled on the floor, already blackened, Melanie laying – her blood soaking the floor around her, the baby lying next to her, ripped from her belly a knife through it's head. He couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl. He kicked in the drawing room window and dragged their bodies out into the yard. The baby was a boy. He grabbed Maggie's burned body, not even feeling the flames and heat as they burned him. Creed just watched.

He knelt over Melanie a scream caught in his throat. He had been gone less than an hour – less than an HOUR and they were taken from him. He remembered the words of the old man…The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again.

Creed helped him – why he never knew. He managed to get through the funerals – get them into the ground, the miniature portrait he was going to surprise her with, sealed into her headstone, above the words Melanie Marie Howlett, Beloved Wife and Mother, Born February 7, 1845, Died September 18, 1865. Then he went after Abbott. After the man was dead – and anyone associated with him, Logan tried to forget. Kept trying to forget until one day – he did.